


Naptime

by Bdoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Bdoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles asks Scott to help him shave his head, but the power goes out partway through. They occupy themselves another way while they wait for it to come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naptime

Scott woke up to a knock on his bedroom door, suddenly ripped from the depths of a wonderful dream way too early on a rainy Saturday morning.

He groaned. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh - not long ago, Stiles wouldn’t have even thought to have asked before coming in, but a couple weeks ago, he’d walked in on Scott tending to his morning wood, and that was awkward enough without Stiles staring again, thank you very much.

Scott looked down to make sure that he was decent, adjusted the blanket around his crotch just in case, and said “Sure.”

Stiles burst in almost immediately, grinning from ear to ear, his hair standing on end. He’d been growing it out for a month or two now, and it still didn’t look right - but at least usually, Stiles tried to tame it. Now it looked like he was going for the Einstein look.

“What, did you stick your finger in an outlet?”

“What?” Stiles looked at him blankly, completely uncomprehending for a moment before reaching up to feel his hair. “Oh. No, I just didn’t bother doing anything.”

“Why?”

Instead of actually answering, Stiles dropped his backpack on the foot of Scott’s bed (Scott scooted his legs up and sat up to avoid getting hit by the bag, making sure that the blanket still hid the fact that he’d just woken up) and pulled out a large ziploc bag full of a jumble of things that took Scott a second to figure out what the fuck they were.

“Hair clippers.”

“Yep! You said it yourself the other day, I don’t look like Stiles anymore. And if I don’t even look like Stiles to my best friend, how the hell am I going to attract the ladies like I always have?” He ran a hand through his hair, grinning self-consciously.

Scott just laughed, bending over the side of his bed to pick a clean-looking t-shirt off the ground, sniffing the first one he got his hands on to make sure it smelled clean before pulling it over his head.

“So why are you here?’

Stiles stared at him with his mouth hanging slightly open for a moment.

“Because… I need help? Why else would I be here?”

Scott blinked. “You need help? With what?”

“You know, psychiatric help.” Pause. “Help shaving my head, dumbass.”

“Oh!” Scott rubbed his face and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, getting up and stumbling towards his bathroom. “I just woke up,” he mumbled as he turned on the tap to splash water on his face.

“Yep, I’m sure that’ll help,” Stiles mumbled as he walked into the bathroom and started unloading the ziploc bag onto the counter. “Okay, so have you ever used clippers before?”

Scott stared at him for a moment before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling lightly. “Does it look like I have?”

Stiles bit his lip, just a tiny bit of his lip disappearing between his teeth, and Scott could hear his heart rate suddenly spike.

“No. No, it doesn’t.” There was a pause while Stiles blinked a couple times. Scott was used to this - Stiles had always had a really active imagination, and that was just his “I’m getting an image out of my mind” face.

I wonder what image was in his mind this time, Scott thought.

“A-anyway, you just have to clip one of these guards on, plug it in, and—” Stiles flipped the switch, and there was a startlingly loud buzzing noise, much higher-pitched than Scott had expected.

“Oh. And… then I just run it over your head?”

“Right. So here, I’ll just—” Stiles sat down hard on the toilet with the lid flipped down, staring at the wall. “Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”

“What if I screw it up?”

Stiles just laughed. “Remember that time that I came to school with my head pretty much completely shaved, way shorter than I normally do?”

“Yeah, that was hilarious.” It had also, of course, been in the middle of winter, and Stiles had complained constantly about the missing thin layer of warmth.

“Well, if you fuck it up, then you just go down one size of guard, and then another, and then another, and then I’ll end up looking like that again. Could be worse.”

“So you’re not worried about that happening again?”

Stiles laughed once, but Scott heard his heart skip a beat. “Please. Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You were just waiting for a chance to use that, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

Scott smirked as he flipped on the clippers. “Okay, so how short is this gonna be?”

“Pretty short. Go for my temples first, that’s a pretty flat part of my head, so it should be easy for you to get used to the way that the clippers work.”

Scott stuck his tongue between his teeth as the clippers hit the first bit of the hair. It was actually really weird to feel - he was expecting more resistance, but at the same time it always looked like the clippers just kind of cut throught he ahir like it was butter on TV, but it was tougher than that.

He ran it along the length of his head, and then shut them off to rub his fingers along the length of the shaved part, feeling how long it was, and feeling the difference between the shaved part of his head and the rest of it.

“Scott, are you… scratching my ears?”

Scott stopped mid-scratch. He hadn’t even really realized it, but that was basically what he was doing. He leaned forward to sneak a look at Stiles’ face. His eyes were closed tightly, he was swallowing constantly, and Scott could feel his heart beat through his temple, even without his hearing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. It’s fine! Just… wanted to feel it.”

“I’m not worried.” Stiles swallowed audibly immediately after he said that, and started breathing noticeably deeper.

“Dude, werewolf. I can tell. It’s okay, I’m not going to fuck up your hair.”

Stiles grinned, a bit too widely. “I’m not worried. Keep going.”

Scott rolled his eyes and flipped on the clippers again, taking a couple steps to circle Stiles so that he could get a good angle at the other side of his head. He wanted to get the easy parts out of the way, so that he could feel okay doing the harder parts. Good thing you have a perfectly round head, dude.

Stiles was still breathing really deep and slow, and Scott was amused. “You know, I don’t blame you for being worried, I’ve never done this.”

There was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever as Scott ran the clippers through Stiles’ hair on his other temple and then dared a little higher up, right on the curve of his skull. The loud bzzz of the clippers seemed to echo off the tiles of the bathroom.

“I told you. I’m not worried.”

Another moment while Scott concentrated on making sure it was even. It wasn’t actually all that difficult - his hair was still short enough that you could see how his head was shaped. And hell, even if it wasn’t, Scott knew the map of his best friend’s head after years and years of staring at it in the chair in front of him in so many classes throughout the years.

“And I told you that I can hear when your heartbeat jumps.”

“You mean heart rate. Heartbeat is just one. God, isn’t your Mom a nurse?”

“Okay, then it’s your heart rate that I can hear going through the roof right now. My bad.” Scott let the sarcasm seep into his voice. Stiles just laughed.

“I’m not really worried. I just…” He swallowed. “Hair cuts always make me nervous. This isnt any worse than I always am, even at people who went to school for this shit.”

Scott finished the swathe of hair he was working on, and then let that process. “…wait, people go to school for this?’

“Well, not just for shaving heads, but I’m sure that’s in there.”

“That would be such a weird class. Head-shaving 101.”

“Can you get back to mine?”

Scott circled around to the other side of Stiles’s head again, and started on the same part of his head on that side. It was slightly different - there was one kind of bumpy part on this side that there wasn’t on the other side, which Scott had never noticed before - but he felt safer just doing the same thing at the same time, so that he knew he knew what he was doing (or, at least, he’d fuck up the same way on both sides.”

“So why does this make you so nervous?” Scott asked after a minute or two of silence, slowly getting through most of the sides of Stiles’s head.

“Hey, hair’s a big part of what, like… defines how a guy looks. It’s one of the first things most people look at, and it can completely change how someone comes off. Imagine Jackson with a long, flowing ponytail, and tell me that he’d still be as intimidating.”

Scott had to move the clippers away from Stiles’s head to laugh for a second at that mental image. “Oh, man. No. No, he wouldn’t.”

“But, like… it doesn’t even have to be that huge a difference. If you see someone who always has their hair parted the same way, and then they have it parted a different way, or the part’s all messy, that’s a huge sign that something’s different.”

“You’ve spent a long time thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“Hey, I have to do something in class,” don’t I?”

“And what does a shaved head say about you, then?” Scott asked, as he worked on the sides of the back of his head. Another easy part, almost flat. Quick and easy, and then Scott could tackle the middle area where it’s all curved.

“That I don’t want to deal with my hair in the morning. And it’s always the same no matter what happens.”

Scott smiled. He knew Stiles hid everything from everyone, that wasn’t new, but he didn’t realize that he’d micro-managed that detail down to his haircut.

Now he just wondered what that meant about him growing it out this summer, and him walking into his bedroom with it sticking up every-which-way.

“You’re not reading too far into that, are you?” Stiles asked, shifting uneasily in his seat.

“Define ‘too far’,” Scott said, but Stiles didn’t get a chance to answer that question - just as he was about to start shaving the back of his head, the clippers stopped and the light went out.

Stiles’s heart rate immediately jumped, loud enough that even Stiles had to hear it pounding in his ears. “What the fuck?”

“Blackout, I guess.” Scott got up and flipped the light switch a couple times, trying to see if they would turn on, and then turned around, shrugging. “Must be the storm outside.”

Stiles just stared at him, turned around on the toilet, and Scott couldn’t help but laughing.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think I’d ever see you with a mohawk, dude.”

“A what!?” Stiles all but leaped off the toilet to get a good vantage point at the sink, and when he saw the wide strip of hair still running down his head, his jaw dropped. Scott swore he saw tears glinting in the corners of his eyes, but when he took a step closer to comfort him, they were gone. Must just have been a trick of the light.

“Dude, it’s okay. It looks fine, and it’s only me who’ll see it.”

“Oh my god, I have a mohawk.” He tugged at the hair in disbelief.

Scott just laughed, and then reached out and ran his hand through the remaining hair, fingers splayed wide enough that he could feel the sandpapery scalp to either side. “It actually looks pretty good on you.”

“No. No, I can’t. No.”

“Dude, relax,” Scott said, pulling him away from the mirror. Before the bite, he would have just tugged, but he had a bit of an advantage now, and Stiles stared in horror at the mirror for as long as he could before Scott sat him down on his bed; at that point, he just went to staring off at the distance, running his hands through his hair, mouthing oh my god over and over again.

Scott reached over and gently grabbed Stiles’ wrists, forcing them into his lap. Stiles’s heart was still pounding out hoofbeats in his chest, and he still looked like he was about to cry.

“It’s just hair.”

“But it doesn’t look like me at all, I can’t believe that the power went out! What will people think if—”

“It’s just me. Mom’s not home for hours, and I’m sure the power’ll be back soon, and I’ll finish it.”

“But—”

“Stiles, come on, holy fuck.” Scott rolled his eyes.

“Scott, why are you rubbing my wrists with your thumbs?”

Scott looked down at his hands. So he was. My hands just have a mind of their own today, he thought, stopping his thumbs’ circular movements, but not letting go of Stiles’s hands.

“I dunno.”

Stiles bit his lip, and Scott could feel his own heart start thumping extra hard.

He was hit by a flashback to when they were younger, lonely twelve-year olds, just making that treacherous transition from “Ew, girls have cooties” to realizing that it wasn’t girls’ cooties they were interested in. Sitting in Scott’s room, on the bed that had broken the next year while they were wrestling on it and Scott decided it was a good idea to try to jump on Stiles (he narrowly missed, saving Stiles’s ribs from maybe being cracked like the slats of Scott’s bed), and Scott was beamoaning his lack of ever having been kissed, and Stiles was saying that when Lydia Martin finally noticed him he did not want to be a virgin kisser, and then he leaned over and kissed Scott, full on the lips, and they “practiced” like that for a while, before—

Scott snapped back to reality before the “before” could start playing in his mind again, and smiled at Stiles, who was still just staring at him, jaw agape, still occasionally mouthing oh my god and mohawk. Scott smirked. This would be a good distraction.

He leaned over, and Stiles’s mouth closed, almost like he was expecting it. His heart skipped a beat as Scott’s lips pressed against his own, and Scott’s nose filled with Stiles’s scent, one that was almost always on the edges of what he could smell but that he hadn’t ever had just… fill his brain.

Their lips just stayed there for a moment, tentatively touching, before Stiles pushed it a bit further, and then suddenly Stiles was on top of Scott, their shirts lying discarded on the floor, and they each had a hand buried in each other’s hair. Stiles had grabbed a handful of Scott’s first, fist tightening as he moaned, humping Scott through their clothes, and Scott wound up mirroring him after a moment’s hesitation; he didn’t want to scare Stiles off by reminding him about his unexpected haircut. But it was just too much, and Stiles’s bony body didn’t really give him much purchase anywhere else that he was prepared to put a hand just quite then.

And then Stiles suddenly broke their kiss; Scott looked at him to try and divine what he was thinking, but Stiles had his eyes looking down, deliberately avoiding Scott’s gaze; after a second, Scott realized that he was also taking in his chest. Their hearts were beating in sync, filling the background of Scott’s brain with their steady thumping.

And then Stiles’s lips were around his nipple, and Scott realized why Allison had loved that - she’d never done it back to him, so he had no idea how incredible it felt. And then he added his teeth - something Scott had never thought to do either - just lightly grazing his nipple, and Scott had to close his eyes again, the image of Stiles’s striped head attached to his chest burning itself into the “good memories” part of his brain.

He only did that for a minute - his arm snaking up to rub his thumb over Scott’s other nipple, making him yelp, unable to hold it back - before he went back to Scott’s mouth, and this time it wasn’t careful practice kisses between two boys who had no idea what they were doing, or careful kissing between two young men worried about what the other was thinking.

It was two boys lusting after each other, two boys who knew what they were doing and who had given up any shame about what they were doing. It was two young men who knew what the other was thinking by now.

Scott’s arms found their way to Stiles’s chest, and he tried, between gasps of air and moments of pleasure so intense he lost track of what he was doing, to mimic what Stiles was doing, following his best friend’s lead about what felt good. As soon as he pinched them both, maybe a bit harder than he’d intended, Stiles’s ever-roaming hands stopped, partway down his back, and Scott could feel the pinpricks of nails digging into his skin, fingers curling with the feeling, digging a niche between Scott’s back and the bed.

That was enough encouragement for Scott to push Stiles backwards, so they were lying on the bed with Stiles’s legs pointing at the window, Scott’s mouth exploring Stiles’s nipple, testing out the use of teeth to add just a tiny bit of pain into the mix, and Stiles leaning back, his arms in the air because that was where they were when he stopped moving them, completely forgotten in the feeling. He’d never had anyone actually do these things back to him.

And then Scott’s hand had, on its own accord, moved down to Stiles’s pants, and was pushing lightly on Stiles’s cock, straining through the fabric of his jeans (so the jeans had to come off, Scott thought, they were definitely too rough on his hands), and then he explored the space between the jeans and the underwear (and those had to come off, too, they were getting a wet spot on them), and then suddenly his hand was touching skin, and it was like an electric jolt went through them both; they both tensed up, and their kissing stopped suddenly.

Scott opened his eyes to see Stiles staring at him, a slightly terrified expression on his face.

“Is this okay?” Scott asked, quietly, mumbling almost into Stiles’s mouth.

Instead of responding, Stiles, still staring directly into Scott’s eyes,ran his hand up Scott’s thigh - making him jump - and grabbed lightly at Scott’s own bulge.

They both grinned, and then Stiles leaned up to find Scott’s mouth again. The next half hour was a blur of flesh, tongues, sweat, moans, and sudden discovery of wonderful places to touch, hands running over backsides, scratch marks running up and down Stiles’s back (and there would be matching marks on Scott’s, but try as Stiles might Scott’s werewolf healing took over; he did his damnedest to give him a hickey but nothing worked for longer than a few seconds), careful exploration of the areas around each other’s asses, both of them too scared to actually go that extra distance, fistfuls of hair, longing looks, and then before they knew it they had both come, their stomachs sticking together with it as they made out for a while longer, relaxing with the release of pent-up energy.

After a moment, Scott flopped over to be next to Stiles instead of on top of him, ignoring the fact that he’d definitely need to do laundry now instead of putting it off like he’d been hoping to do for a while yet.

“So.”

“So.”

“How long have you known that the lights were back on?”

Scott looked over at Stiles, who had rolled over to drape one arm casually over Scott’s chest; Scott’s nipples were still sensitive enough to be burning at the slightest touch of Stiles’s arm. Scott grinned.

“About the time my pants came off.”

Stiles exhaled, burying his face in Scott’s shoulder. “Damn, they’ve been on that long?”

“Yeeeep.” He drew it out, satisfied and glad that Stiles had been too wrapped up in everything to notice.

“I only noticed now. Holy crap, Allison must have had it good, if you two did this every night.”

Scott raised his eyebrow. “Not every night, but… isn’t it kind of weird to talk about her right now, considering?”

Stiles shrugged and rolled back over; they were only touching with their shoulders now. “I dunno, is it?”

“A bit, but that’s okay.”

“We should probably—”

“Get back to your hair?” Scott grinned, pushing himself up, leaning over to plant a kiss on Stiles’s lips.

Stiles looked at him for a second, licked his lips, and then smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I was about to say.”

They didn’t bother with clothing; they would both need to shower anyway, and - as Stiles pointed out - it was only economically and environmentally sound for them to just shower together. It wasn’t like they were going to see (or touch, Scott added silently) anything they hadn’t just seen. With the power back on, shaving Stiles’s head only took a minute, and when it was done, Scott ran his hands over the stubbly head and scowled.

“What?” Stiles said, concerned. Scott could hear his heart beating faster again.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just kind of sad that I don’t have anything to grab onto anymore.”

“What do you mean anymore?”

Scott looked at him, furrowing his brow. “Well, I mean… that wasn’t the end of… this, was it? That was way too much fun to stop.”

“So are we…”

Scott shrugged. “I dunno. We’ll figure that out, I guess?”

Stiles shrugged and grinned, and this time the smile reached his eyes, twinkling in the light. “Let’s get on with that shower, shall we?”

After the shower, when they both decided that they were content to just cuddle on the bed, Stiles curled up against Scott’s chest, his head resting on Scott’s arm, playing idly with the hair at the top of Scott’s neck, Scott suddenly broke the silence.

“So do you actually shave your head to hide things from everyone?”

Stiles stopped playing with his hair, frozen for a moment. Scott didn’t need his hearing to feel Stiles’s heart, pressed firmly against his chest as it was.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re always guarded. Is that why you started shaving your head?”

Stiles sighed. “I still have bad mornings sometimes ‘cause of my Mom, and then now I’m always worried about you, and — and hell, I’m worried about me a lot of the time…”

“You’re worried about me?” Scott said, surprised.

Stiles sat up slightly, to better deliver his most scathing sarcastic look. “No. I’m not worried about my best friend, who is now a werewolf and puts himself in mortal danger every freaking month.”

“Well… when you put it that way…”

Stiles leaned over and kissed Scott tenderly on the nose before settling down again against his chest. “Shush now. Naptime.”


End file.
